


Delta

by Mythril (fantacination)



Series: The BoM Keef Sheith Space RomCom Nobody Asked For [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A space romcom in the making, Awkward Shiro, BOM!Keith, BoM AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Curious Keith, Hurt/Comfort, Keith Tarzan; Shiro Jane, M/M, Sheith Big Bang 2017, Shiro remembers, Shiro takes a detour, Shiro's PTSD and Keith helping him through it, galra - Freeform, human-phenotype Keef wants to be a furry-er, mostly action and humor, nuzzling, oblivious alien Keith, petting, season 1 AU, some places should not be pet keith, with sprinklings of PTSD angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantacination/pseuds/Mythril
Summary: In another reality, the cards fell differently.Shiro's escape doesn't go quite as planned and Ulaz is forced to take him in his own escape pod back to the Blades of Marmora- where he meets the first human face he’s seen in a year: Keith.Keith’s mother left him with the Blades instead of back on earth. He's never seen another human being before Ulaz brings the Champion back. Fascinated, Keith is immediately and, to Shiro’s awkward discomfort, very personally curious about him.Defending the Universe was never going to be easy, but now Shiro has to juggle his new duties with his memories of the Arena and an overly-tactile alien-raised partner with no concept of basic human etiquette. Thankfully for them both, Keith is the key Voltron needs-- and the one Shiro needs, too.





	1. Chapter 1

There was something large and lilac standing above him.

Shiro’s instincts reacted first, right arm slashing up at the threat. His entire body screamed with adrenaline and fear.

The Galra swatted his arm away, pushing it back and smoothly pressing him down to the floor, neutralized. It was efficient, but the pressure on his back felt controlled rather than threatening.

“Calm yourself. It’s only me.’

“Who?’

“Ulaz. I am not your enemy. You may be a bit-- disoriented. The anaesthesia they used was of a higher grade than warranted.” The Galra checked his eyes briefly. “Nothing rest won’t fix.”

Shiro vaguely remembered this particular Galra grabbing him before rolling them both into the pod as they left. It was lucky he had, or he’d probably have had a concussion from the blast and impact on the metal floor.

He’d spent months trying to get through to any of his captors. He’d never gotten any response except for a forceful shove. For this to happen now…

“Why?” Shiro asked, still groggy from the anaesthetic. The edges of the ship blurred.

Ulaz scanned his vitals with a small device taped to his wrist. “Because you are needed. Because the Universe is lost if Zarkon obtains Voltron.”

Satisfied that Shiro was fine, his Galra savior got up and walked to the ship’s command console. He typed  something onto the smooth, holographic surface, alien letters scrolling above it. His mask was off, showing the flattened snout-like nose and pointed ears characteristic of many Galra. His features were sharper than most, cheekbones highlighted by the pattern of his pale facial markings.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can regroup, and find you a ship that can take you back to your Earth,” Ulaz said crisply. “It was unfortunate that the other pod was destroyed, but our priority is getting to that Lion.”

“Lion? You want lions from Earth?” Shiro asked, baffled. “Got sick of cows?” He asked, bemused, mostly to himself.

Ulaz didn’t get it, which was to be expected. He’d spent most of his life as a Japanese guy in America. But he’d discovered  new levels of culture shock  in the holding cells of a megalomaniac alien empire. He pushed himself up on one arm, looking around the ship. The only parts of it that were instantly recognizable were the pilot’s seat and the command console. Everything else was the same vein of undecipherable sci fi-alien that had surrounded him since being abducted on Kerberos.

The upright position was better for his dizziness, at least. His head started to clear. “How long was I out?”

“Five vargas. We should arrive in twenty more.”

“We weren’t pursued?”

“No, the Emperor has other concerns,” Ulaz said. “Champion--”

“Shiro,” Shiro interrupted. Because he hated the title more each time he heard it.

Ulaz looked at him with one glowing eye. “Shiro. You must understand how important your mission is. If the Emperor gets to your Earth, he will raze it to find the Lion. Currently, of the five lions, he has one and the location of two. Two others are missing, but each quintant brings new galaxies to search and subjugate. Nothing is out of reach for a powerful despot. Once he has all the Lions, he will have the greatest weapon in the universe.”

“Then why aren’t we going now?” Shiro stood up gingerly. The idea that lions could be weapons might have been a little hard to swallow- but he’d seen the Galra and he’d been in their Arena. Living weapons; people who chose to become weapons- weren’t uncommon. His right fist clenched, empty.

“This pod does not have the necessary fuel reserves to reach Earth. You would end your journey adrift in space. It is, however, enough to get us to an outpost. And hopefully onto a ship fast  enough to overtake the Empire’s fleet.”

Ulaz depressed a button on the blinking console. A panel on the ship wall slid back to reveal little gray pyramids. Shiro recognized them to be food and water packets, packed neatly into the space.

“Eat and rest,” Ulaz instructed, turning back to the panel.

Shiro took one of the pyramids and tore the thick skin cover open. The contents inside were the same purplish chunk of meatloaf-like food he’d gotten after winning a battle in the Arena. Another pyramid yielded water. He drank that down first.

Ulaz didn’t eat- he was looking at something on his comm unit, though Shiro couldn’t see what.

“Thanks,” Shiro said abruptly. “For helping me get out. And… all this.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Ulaz said briefly. “I didn’t break you out for your own safety.”

“No,” Shiro agreed, “but If you didn't, who knows what they’d be doing to me now.” Or what he would be doing to others. “If I can help people, then I want to. Better than wondering who I’m going to have to kill next.”

Ulaz stared at him quietly. “That is key to why I chose to free you. It has been far too long since the Empire has seen anyone quite like you, Ch-- Shiro.”

“I guess you don’t get many weak little humans with more stubbornness than sense around here,” Shiro said wryly. Ulaz’s words weren’t comfort. He didn’t think Ulaz quite understood why being Champion upset him so much.

“You fight to protect. A concept lost upon many in these times. But that in itself is not so unusual. But your mind is-- fascinating. It’s able to withstand monumental pressure and adapt- you always choose the path to victory, despite the overwhelming odds. Humans are really-- astonishingly resilient.” The smallest of smiles quirked Ulaz’s mouth.

Shiro stared at it, in mild shock. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a Galra smile. Smirk, yes, but a smile was… rare. Ulaz’s expression was softer,  inward, a little distant. It didn’t feel like he was talking about him, exactly. More like bemusement at a memory.

“I think you’re building me up to be a hero I’m not. But I’ll do what I can.” Shiro’s mouth twisted, his gaze anchored to the chunk of meatloaf in his hand.

“You may find yourself worthier than you think, if what we know of the legends are true.”

Shiro frowned a bit. “Can you tell me more about.. these lions?’

Ulaz gave him a crash course on the wider Universe outside of the Arena- nothing detailed, but he did admit to being part of a rebel group, one slowly established over many millennia, and that they were headed to one of those outposts now. He said little and less about himself, but he answered any question Shiro could think to ask.

“We’ve arrived,” Ulaz said as they were cleaning up after the most recent meal. Looking out, Shiro could see nothing but a field of asteroids. He wondered, for a dark moment, if he was about to be hurled into outer space, after all.

Then, the communications system booted up, an animatronic voice asking them to state their identity and purpose.

“Ulaz. Escort, B234X-JT.”

There was a pause, then: “Proceed.”

Ulaz shifted the pod’s gears and flew straight into the largest asteroid in the belt.

“Wait, what are you--!” Shiro braced himself for impact-- but it never came. The pod was swallowed into the space, like it had flown into an interdimensional pocket. “That’s…”

A small but fully-fledged space station had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It shone in space, brightly lit like an airport.

Ulaz docked the pod in one of the hangars. “Come, we have little time to waste.”

Shiro scrambled to keep up, jumping down from the hatch to dull metal ramps. “Is this-”

“Ulaz!” A  small black and purple blur launched itself at Shiro’s much taller companion.

Ulaz barely stumbled on impact, supporting the new body easily with one arm. “Keith,” he said admonishingly, but Shiro could see lines in his face relax. “What are you doing here?’

“Me? What are _you_ doing here? Is Thace with you?” The stranger sounded young, even through the obvious distortion of his mask. The mask itself was bone-white, full-faced, like armor, and with glass-covered slits where eyes might be. There were four slanting eyes, all glowing with the same muted indigo glow as the modules fitted at his neck and boots. A dark rope-like braid looped carelessly around the Galra’s neck. A hood covered his head, hiding any other identifying features as he peered at the pod and his shoulders slumped in disappointment. At least Shiro assumed as much, but with the mask and hood, it was hard to tell.

“You know Thace is still on his mission. My own was... compromised, so I had to leave.” He glanced at Shiro.

‘Keith’ seemed to notice Shiro for the first time. He stepped back from Ulaz, self-conscious, then turned towards him. He had to be one of the smallest Galra he’d seen so far- and the Blades were all Galra, as Ulaz told the story. Shiro was pretty sure he was at least half a head taller than this one. Was it a Galra child, after all?

The silence lingered.

“Uh, my name is Shiro.” He started to extend his hand.

“You-- you look like me,” Keith said, a rough whisper.

Shiro blinked, confused. “What?”

The mask over Keith’s face disappeared, melting away like a sheet of ice in hot water. Then, he understood.

Keith’s skin was smooth and pale, his hair dark and curling over human shell-like ears.. His eyes didn’t glow; irises a dark purple with a white sclera.

“You’re human,” Shiro said, staring.

“You’re from Earth,” Keith said back. “Is that why you brought him here?’ he asked Ulaz.

“Not all of it. He is the Champion and a native of Earth- both things he will need if he is to retrieve the Lion that resides there.”

“A Lion? They found one?”

“Yes. Take our guest to a room to rest. I will need to report my findings to Leader and get clearance for a ship.”

“Yes,” Keith agreed reluctantly. He straightened his shoulders, shifting his weight into something  alert and ready.  Ulaz touched Keith’s shoulder and walked off, shedding his medical personnel equipment as he went.

“...We’ll get you clothes. You’ll stick out, looking like that,” Keith said, turning to Shiro. “Come with me.” He stepped lightly onto the ladder going the other direction from where Ulaz had gone, balancing on a step with the feline poise that Shiro had come to expect from the best Galra fighters. Keith moved like Ulaz did: silent, swift, and effortless.

From his angle underneath him, the view was stunning in more ways than one. Keith’s skin tight uniform left even less to the imagination than the Galra slave attire Shiro had on now. It was almost kind of hilarious how much of space apparently conformed to skin-tight space leotards instead of bulky astronaut suits.

But he could see lean muscle in the lines of his suit. Keith had experience fighting, if the blade hanging at his waist was anything to go by. He wondered what it meant, that someone who was human was here, fighting for a Galra organization.

“Are you coming?” Keith asked, jarring Shiro out of his contemplation. Shiro averted his eyes hastily, keeping his gaze on the rungs.

“Ah-- yeah, sorry, just got a lot on my mind.” He followed him up the ramp with what he hoped was comparable grace.

As they went up, he could see more of where they were. The station’s design was minimalist, built in a spiral with ships docked in the middle. The core was hollow, allowing ships passage through. Upper and lower levels were accessible via ramps, ladders, and chutes. Keith led him off a corridor into a storage room where he picked out some clothes for Shiro to change into. No underwear, of course. Not when he couldn’t see any lines anywhere on the suits in space.

He didn’t know how long he’d had the rags he wore on, either. “Do you have any… bathing facilities?” He’d been sterilized, right before the operation, doused in some kind of foam, but it hadn’t left him feeling clean. Some part of his human sensibilities longed for a proper bath- just hot water and plain soap. “For cleaning myself?”

Keith blinked. “Not here, but I can take you to one. It’s on the upper levels.”

“Thanks.” Shiro paused, hand hovering over the hem of the tattered purple tunic he wore over the leotard. Keith didn’t take the hint, his stare unswerving on Shiro’s form.

Right. Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been stripped in front of a lot of strangers already. Modesty was probably pretty silly at this point. If a naked human body was going to be boring to anyone it had to be the one alien who looked human.

Shiro turned and took his clothes off, pulling the top over his head and skimming the undersuit down to his ankles so he could step out of them.

He was about to put the new clothes on when he felt a touch on his tailbone that made him flinch, startling. “Wha--!” He swung reflexively, his fist striking out. Keith turned his head, letting Shiro’s hand cut air.

“You don’t have a tail. So it really is like that,” Keith mused. “I wondered…there’s just this weird stumpy little bone.”

Shiro flushed, using the clothes to hide his crotch as he turned his ass away from Keith. “I-- of course we don’t.”

Keith stared, leaning into Shiro’s personal space and put his hands on his chest. “You’re a bit furrier than me. Does the fur grow in?” He petted lightly at Shiro’s chest. “How long does it take?”

It would be, Shiro thought to himself carefully, very ignoble to die of embarrassment now. Worse, he hadn’t really been touched non-traumatically in… a very long time and Keith’s curiosity was going to be even more awkward very soon if he didn’t get away from him. The frisson of low-key pleasure from the contact was already starting to coil lazily in his gut.

He pulled away from Keith and tried to put the suit on. “We don’t really get fur,” he said, trying to distract him. “And it depends- there are all kinds of humans, some are... ah- furrier- than me, but we don’t get a coat of it like the Galra do. Some of them do,” he corrected himself.

“Oh,” Keith said, sounding visibly disappointed. “And you’re bigger than me,” he said, tone accusing.

Shiro struggled to pull the suit up over his hips as quickly as he could, the material stretching like taffy. “That’s genetic, too. You could still get a little taller, some guys get their growth spurts a little late.” Assuming aliens had a concept of puberty.

Shiro managed to pull the suit up, buckling the armor into the proper slots. He wasn’t sure on how to do the chest part, though. He looked at the shell-like plate and tried to find a catch with the tips of his fingers.

Keith identified the issue and walked over to push the armored backplate against his shoulder blades, hands coming up around Shiro’s neck to press the latches that vacuum-sealed the suit into place with a soft, suctioning ‘shlorp’. There were probably latex suits that were more forgiving than this.

Keith looked him over. “Pull the hood up, we’ll be meeting others on the way to the hostels.”

Shiro did, surprised when it automatically created a holographic mask layer over his face. It was a bit like looking through tinted glass. Keith activated his as they exited the room.

“Don’t people know you’re not Galra?” Shiro asked curiously, following him up more ramps.

“I _am_ Galra,” Keith said immediately, a touch of vehemence in his tone. He looked away, leading them down a ramp. “At least, part of me is. But not everyone knows. It’s easier if nobody notices.”

Half-Galra, then? But with a human? Aliens were still little more than myth back on Earth. Did that mean someone had been abducted before?

“Are your parents Blades, too? Is your dad Galra?”

“My mother was. She died when I was young. I’ve never met my sire, but-- he must be like you.” Keith considered him. “You’re… what do they call you? Earthian? I’ve never seen nor heard of him. The Blades have raised me since I was a kit.”

Shiro paused. Raised from childhood-- by rebel space illuminati aliens. It was a little like a space Jungle Book. He couldn’t begin to imagine how different that life must have been.

And- Shiro wanted to know more. He’d thought his curiosity had died- better to not know the how or why when no answer would be welcome. But he hadn’t realized how starved he’d become for conversation; something so simple as the sight of another human being. Keith’s bright eyes, when he could see them, looked at him without guile or expectation, staring straight into his without any of the anxious subservience or expectation his fellow prisoners had.

Despite the inane circumstances, this was the most normal he’d felt since the Galra took him.

 _Stop._ Shiro carefully cut theat line of thought, slipping the trailing threads into a little box. He couldn’t afford to break down. He wasn’t home yet. And there was no telling what would happen once he confronted the Galra there. But if he died on Earth, it would still be worth it. His dust going back to Earth’s dust.

They’d gone up several ramps before descending once more into a different section of the base, nodding a few times to other agents passing by. The Blades of Marmora were uniformly Galra, but Galra themselves were as colorful as any of the races back on Earth. Two women, one with fins and the other furred, chatted quietly. With their hoods down, Shiro could see white and red markings streaked across their faces. Most of the others were masked and headed towards the docks, likely about to embark on other missions like the one Ulaz had been on.

“How many of you are there?” Shiro asked, wondering.

Keith’s head turned towards him, mask unreadable. “Not enough, but we make do,” he replied.

Right. Secret secrets were secret. Shiro hoped Keith wasn’t offended, but it was hard to tell with the mask on. The last thing he needed was to stir up hostilities with his rescuers.

Keith paused as they rounded a corner. It took a moment for Shiro to realize why. A pair of Blades were walking towards them, markedly large, even for Galra. He didn’t need to see Keith’s face to feel him tense. Instinct honed his awareness, his body readying for battle even as his mind grappled to understand what was so different about these two.

“Look, it’s the runt,” one of them sneered. It was a deep voice, male. One of his legs had been replaced with an advanced metal prosthetic.

“And a friend,” his companion noted. Her voice was lighter in octave but not in tone. “A small one.”

“I suppose having more of them makes them feel better, like a herd.”

“We’ve no business with you, Nael,” Keith said. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to TK-7?”

The man scoffed. “We’ll finish our mission-- and without undue conflict to accomplish the feat.”

Keith stared back, unflinching. “That’s comforting. I’d hate to have to go out there to save your ass.”

“You overstep, kit, and sooner or later you’ll jeopardize our mission.” The pair turned to go. Keith stood aside to let them.

“Missions?” Shiro asked when the two were gone.

“Orders from Leader. Nael’s the kind who goes to ground when there’s even the slightest risk,” Keith scoffed. “I’ve done twice as many missions as he has in the same time frame.”

“What kind of missions are those? Spying like what Ulaz did?”

“If I need to. I can’t do it long- that’s what _Xi_ \- what Ulaz and the others are doing.” Keith caught himself as they resumed walking. “I’m a fighter and a pilot. Most Blades get the training, but we’re not one for open warfare. I usually only have to escort our vessels to safe territories or do a quick extraction.”

They stopped at a doorway marked with a pink  symbol that reminded Shiro of the bottom of a flat iron. The doors slid open as they approached to reveal a large room. Instead of cubicles of showers, there was a large bath sunk into the middle, easily holding several adult Galra. What Shiro hadn’t counted on, however, was that it wasn’t filled with water.

“What is that?”

“The bath,” Keith said. “Don’t you have them?”

“Not like this,” Shiro said. The room was empty, so he cautiously pushed his hood back and dipped one hand into the pool. It was filled with thousands of tiny gel-like beads, all glowing faintly with the same dark purple light he’d seen all over the ship so far. The beads swirled gently together inside. It was warm.

“So what do you do here?” Shiro asked, noticing Keith’s silent stare.

“You go in. Most would groom either before or during.”

“Groom?” Shiro asked dubiously, then realized he probably shouldn’t ask. “Is it okay if I just get in?”

Keith nodded. There were small round cubbies to put armor in, Shiro realized. He stripped to put his in, relieved when Keith made no further comments. The floor closed over his clothes, the soft sound of whirring and tumbling clothes reminding him of some kind of drier.

“It’s being cleaned,” Keith explained, noticing his hesitation.

“Ah, I see,” Shiro said, quickly bracing himself as he slipped into the bath proper. His body sank down slowly, settling at a slightly textured bottom.

It was remarkably like water- but it _wasn’t_ water. The beads were gel-like, warm to the touch, like sun-warmed concrete,, and-- refreshing, he supposed. It rubbed the grime from his skin. Dirt adhered to the surface was absorbed and locked away. Shiro ran his hands through it, fascinated. The Holts would’ve been beside themselves trying to figure out how it worked.

The thought of them was like a punch to the gut. He’d been trying so hard not to dwell; to believe that they were better off wherever the Galra had sent them after Shiro had made it clear he wasn’t going to let anyone else fight.

And how many had he killed since then? Suddenly, the clear beads were soaked in red. Blood filled the pool, creeping swiftly up his knees, engulfing him in a towering wave. He would drown. He would drown and finally die.

“Champion?”

Shiro lashed out blindly, his arm humming out, lit with purple light-- only to stop abruptly, pain jolting up his shoulder. “Guh!” He flailed in the water, slamming up against the rim of the tub. He grabbed for it blindly and found himself dragged up out of the bath, two small, slender hands folding around his.

The purple glared, erupting in withheld violence. Shiro bore his will down on it. For what felt like a pained eternity it bucked against him. Cold sweat pricked at his skin as he grit his teeth. It wasn’t his, but it was part of him. He _would_ control it. The light snapped shut, his arm inert  before it could hurt fragile flesh.

The red receded. He drifted awake to the sterile gray of the bathroom floors.

Keith had his mask off, hood around his neck and gaze steady on him. “Are you okay?” He had gotten into the water with him, his clothes still on. The tail end of his braid floated on the bath, his hair slightly more disheveled than it had been before.

“I--not really,” Shiro laughed, a little. Not for a long time.

Keith nodded once and released his wrists, reaching up to cup Shiro’s face with both of his hands. “You’re unwell.” [He rose on his tiptoes, pressing his forehead to Shiro’s and-- humming. No, not quite. It was a purr, a low, guttural thrumming sound.](https://twitter.com/QueTostada/status/911851913410310144)

Shiro blinked back, too startled to protest. “What-- what are you doing?”

“Comforting you.”

Shiro balked. “Why?”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re distressed.”

“Yes- but, you barely know me,” Shiro shook his head, pulling away.

Keith tilted his head. “Do you need a reason to help?”

“I… I guess...I’m just not used to being helped.”

“Your name- what was it again?’

“Shiro. My name is Shiro.” He closed his eyes.

Keith rolled the name on his tongue, testing it. “There are worse things you could do than accepting help you need, Shiro.”

“Don’t I know it,” Shiro murmured softly. “I didn’t think the Galra did.”

“If you have a sword, wouldn’t you care for it?” Keith placed three fingers lightly on Shiro’s forehead. “That, in there, is as much a weapon as your arm.”

Shiro flinched, trying to back away, but the edge of the pool kept him from it. His arm throbbed

Keith considered him. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I- a lot of things. Myself-” His teeth clicked on the heels of the word as it escaped.

“Why?” Keith asked bluntly.

"It’s- I’ve done things I’m not proud of.” How could he explain? “I’ve- I’ve k- kill-”

“Are you afraid of me?” Keith cut in.

“What? No, I-” Shiro paused, wondering if that might be offensive. Keith’s petite frame was hardly imposing, even to an average human.

“I’ve killed people,” Keith said, getting out of the water to sit on the ledge. “I’m a weapon, just as much as you.” He touched Shiro’s arm, the Galran one, the sensation of it tugging at the decimated stump of flesh.

“So if you’re not afraid of me, why are you afraid of yourself?”


	2. Chapter 2

Ulaz summoned them to the communications room shortly after that. 

Without an answer for Keith, Shiro followed him mutely towards what he supposed was the command deck. It had a view of the space station, Galra letters scrolling across the lower half of the screen in what he supposed were information or report feeds. 

There were a couple of agents, but Ulaz stood apart from them. He, too, was now dressed in the dark, hooded uniform of the Blades. He had a glowing keyboard under one hand, more of the same foreign iconography streamed across the screen. He closed the comlink on his wrist as they approached.

“I’ve managed to establish contact with Headquarters,” he explained.

“Leader has granted us the use of one of the Piercer fighter ships- it’ll be faster than a shuttle, but it may be a bit temperamental. We’ll program the course before you leave.” 

“Is there a manual or is it auto-pilot?” Shiro asked, wondering if he could learn the controls of an alien ship in a couple of hours. He wasn’t a bad pilot by any means, but the last thing he wanted was to accidentally eject himself into space while trying to find the thrusters.

“You don’t need it,” Keith said. He walked up towards Ulaz, turning to face him. 

“What?”

Keith unfolded his arms, hands in loose fists. His spine straightened. “I’ll take him. The ship seats two.” 

Shiro blinked. “Keith, I appreciate the offer, but-”

“No, he’s right.”

“Ulaz?” Shiro blinked. He’d thought Ulaz, if anyone, would be against the idea. He’d gotten the impression that Keith was family to him.

“If anyone can take you to Earth before the fleet gets there, it’s Keith.” Ulaz nodded once, as though that settled it. 

“But-- don’t you need him here? He has other missions, surely-” 

“The Lion on Earth could very well be the last one the Emperor seeks. We cannot allow it to fall into his hands. It takes priority over all other missions.”

Shiro quieted. “I can’t accept that. You know that this is very likely a suicide mission. Think about it- even if we get to Earth, what hope do we have of fighting off a fleet? Even if I alert Earth’s authorities we wouldn’t be able to mobilize anything that could hold a candle to their canons- the technology is literal light years from anything we have! At best, we’ll put up a fight and I’d go for that alone.” If there was any chance at all that he could spare anyone else his fate--

“Knowing that, you’d send your.. family with me? To his death?”

Ulaz met his gaze, luminous gold eyes implacable. “Keith will ensure you get there at all. He is not afraid of death, nor any of us. That is what it means to be a Blade.” 

Harsh and unyielding- a creed for zealots. “I won’t let you,” he decided. “I’ll fly it by myself if I have to.” 

Keith bared his teeth. “Aren’t you forgetting something? This isn’t your mission. It’s ours.” 

Ulaz rested a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith is right. Don’t mistake our intention. You are the best candidate to send to Earth. Just as Keith is the best candidate to pilot your ship. Ultimately, both work towards our goal: to prevent the Emperor from gaining more power before we are able to strike him down.” 

It was clear that nothing Shiro could say would deter them. 

“I just don’t think this should be the hill you die on- you’re still young-” 

“I don’t intend to die,” Keith said, taking a step forward. “I’m not afraid to take or to give.” 

Shiro reeled, caught between the conditioning of a year in the Arena and the strange feelings Keith brought up in him. 

Ulaz got between them, shouldering Keith back gently. “Now is not the time for arguments.” He turned to Shiro. “Champion,” he stressed, “Keith would be an asset to your mission in every way. The ship to Earth and your continued welcome is dependent on ensuring the absolute best probability of a good outcome.” 

“I understand,” Shiro said reluctantly. He just didn’t have to like it. 

Ulaz smoothed a hand over Keith’s head, very much like a cat licking a kitten’s fur back into place. Keith settled, just. 

“We will provide a distraction- a squad has been sent out to disable a prominent communications satellite- this should buy you some time to find the Blue Lion,” Ulaz continued. “I’ll be leading them personally.” 

“ _ Xhiue _ ,” Keith said, frowning. “Be guided.” 

“Of course I will,” Ulaz said with serene calm, leaning down to nuzzle Keith. He had to bend nearly in half to do so. Keith nuzzled back, face swallowed in Ulaz’s shoulder. The picture they made was nearly comical, Goliath to David, standing tall. But while the touch was brusque and efficient, they were made with care, a father to his son. Shiro’s heart clenched.

Ulaz pulled away first, Keith parting reluctantly. “The ship is docked in 3rd quadrant hangar. Make ready and depart.” 

“Ch’dit vi tieni,” Ulaz said, waiting for Keith’s answering salutation before walking away.

Keith watched his back for a moment longer, then turned to Shiro. He wondered how long it had been since Keith had seen Ulaz- or how long until they would see eachother again. But the easy touch was gone, replaced by a business-like sharpness as Keith’s hood slipped back into place over his furless face. 

“Come with me,” he instructed, boots already clicking against the floor. 

Keith was noticeably cool as they boarded the ship. Like most of the things at the base, it was made from a dark, non-reflective metal, all streamlined sleekness and powerful engines at the back. The narrow nose rose into a dense glass-like hull, encompassing both the pilot seat in front and the passenger seat at the back. 

He was surprised to find both seats had controls. “What are these for?” 

“Auxiliary arms-- and failsafes. If the lead pilot dies, the subordinate takes over.” 

Shiro touched his hand to the hull. “I know you were brought up to this, Keith, but have you thought about what it means to die?” 

“More than you have,” Keith replied. “Maybe you think I don’t understand- but I chose to be a Blade and to become one, you must pass the Trials. You need to prove that you can sacrifice what you need to for the good of the mission. This isn’t a game for us.” 

“I never meant to imply--”

“You want to die-- it’s written all over your face.” Shiro flinched at the accusation. “You’re afraid of yourself so much you’d rather die than face your future.” 

“But death is the  _ easy _ option,” Keith continued. “We aren’t tested to accept death. We’re tested to see if we can fight until we have no other choice.” 

“And when we die, it will be because we lived a life worth dying for.” Keith turned on his heel, his braid snapping around his hips. 

Shiro got into the passenger seat, storing the rations they’d been provided with in the storage cabin underneath. He had nothing to say; no defense that wouldn’t ring hollow. He’d given up his life the moment he’d realized what they planned to do to them in the Arena- every match since had been borrowed time. 

“Keith--” he began, only to be met with icy silence. 

“For what it’s worth, I never meant to question your ability.” 

“Just my capacity to keep myself alive.” 

“It’s not even that. I just don’t like the odds of us succeeding. It’ll be just me and you and finding a big blue lion in the middle of nowhere- if the Galra don’t find and flatten us first. There’s nothing on Earth that could even approach the destructive power and mobility of a Galra warship.” 

“You’ve seen the Empire. You know it’s worth the risk.” 

Shiro’s fist tightened. “I-- of course I have….” The thought of the Galra descending on Earth; of them taking slaves the way they had Matt and Commander Holt- was unbearable. How many would be sent to the Arena this time? How many would die there or be forced to kill others? Or would they simply execute the two billion people on Earth? 

Keith looked back at him. “Then you’ll need to decide what you’re actually afraid of.” He sealed the ship, strapping himself in as he flicked through some panels on the touchscreen. He went too fast for Shiro to have a hope of copying him, but he tried to watch what he could, anyway. 

This was going to be a long flight. And he didn’t think Keith would appreciate him asking how long it would take, either. 

=

“We’re entering the atmosphere,” Keith warned- the ship started to rattle, buffeted by the winds. They plunged past the exosphere, hurtling straight past until the stratosphere with hardly a pause, then he felt Keith start to lift. It was too close-- they’d crash at this rate.

“Kei-” Shiro couldn’t hear his own voice over the sound of the ship cutting the air- and then, just as suddenly, they leveled off, soaring over a long patch of dark desert sand.

Keith killed the rear thrusters and activated the wings, coasting on momentum and wind resistance to bring the ship down. It wasn’t a smooth ride- but they dropped fast, minimizing the chances of being seen. That was, Shiro supposed, a decent trade off. 

Still.

“You’re going too fast!” 

“We’re fine!” Keith shot back, eyes on the rapidly approaching ground. He reversed the gears just as they were about to hit it, propelling them  up from the drastic nosedive and sending them skidding into the desert.

They stopped in a shoal of sand, Shiro’s teeth still rattling in his mouth and his ears aching. “God, I can’t hear myself,” he said as he slowly unbuckled the straps. “You said  _ I _ had the deathwish?” 

Keith gave no reply, though his chilliness had waned as the trip had gone on. He pulled his hood up, the cockpit hatch sliding open. 

It smelled like earth. Like baked stone and the blistering sighs of hot sand. Arid desert air burned in his lungs-- and yet, he’d never breathed anything so sweet. 

Shiro climbed out of the ship, taking a moment to let his legs adjust- his body-- the gravity. God he’d missed that. Simulated gravity in Galran ships tended to be a little too light. 

Keith’s booted feet hit the sand next to him. “What is this…?” He lifted a boot, inspecting the fine grains that sifted off him.

Shiro chuckled wanly. “Sand and dirt. They get in everything, I wouldn’t worry about it. Don’t you have those where you came from?” 

“No, I’ve lived only in the outposts… Occasionally we’d visit others, but..” he shook his head, toeing at the sand like a mistrustful toddler. 

Shiro cracked a smile. “It’s made of-- bits of stones,” he said, trying to remember. “That’s  because it’s so dry there’s nothing to hold the dust down and the wind picks it up. Some sandy areas used to be covered in sea, so there’s bits of shells and corals there, too.”

“Water? But it’s so dry here.” 

“That’s just what it’s like here. And the Earth--- it changes. Everyone just adapts. Humans can live almost anywhere on earth, with the right tools and provisions.”

“That's a lot like the Galra.” Keith crouched and sifted his fingers through the warm sand, before straightening. “Is all of Earth like this?” 

“No, this is just one part- there’s places with lots of forest- trees of different kinds. Some places are cold; they have snow. Some are islands, with sea for miles around. My… my parents came from a place like that.” 

Keith seemed to consider that. Shiro wondered if he was thinking about his father. 

“There’s something about this place,” Keith said quietly, looking out. ‘It feels like it’s holding its breath.” 

“What do you mean?”

Keith gestured around them a bit irritably. “Can’t you feel that? It’s like there’s… a tension.” 

Shiro didn’t. But he could do worse than listen to someone’s instincts. “We might have attracted attention,” he conceded. “It probably isn’t a good idea to stay out here, anyway. When the sun comes up, it’ll get pretty hot.” 

Shiro looked up at the sky and climbed a tall dune to check where they were. It was a clear night and his hand- his human hand- was a stark pale branch against the utter dark. It ached to see the stars like this again, so familiar and steadfast between the span of is fingers. His boots crunched, sliding back with each forward lunge.

Finally, he crested the dune. Like the slow reveal of a magician’s table, the world spread out. The desert rolled in sea-like waves, dotted only by the occasional patch of weedy shrub or cactus. There were cliffs in the distance to the east. And to the north, he could see the lights of the Galaxy Garrison.

And he forgot to breathe. It was so close. He’d never thought he’d see it again. He needed to go there- alert them of what had happened. How they’d been taken and the Holts had-- they had to be alive, somewhere. 

Keith pulled himself up beside him, so light on his feet that he’d barely made a sound. 

“Something’s coming.” 

Shiro looked. Of course- they would have noticed a ship landing so close to them, especially after the spectacular dive Keith had done. 

He squinted at the jeeps, trying to make out the insignia-- only to realize those weren’t just jeeps. There were tanks.

A sudden, sober understanding dawned on Shiro’s face. “That’s our welcoming committee-- and they don’t look happy to see us.” 

Keith took his knife out. “Then we’ll have to change their minds.” 

“With what--” Shiro began, only to stop and stare as the knife flashed, the steel lengthening into a curved edge like a scimitar. “What  _ is _ that?” 

“My blade,” Keith said simply. “It’s not too different from your arm.” 

Except, of course, Shiro couldn’t exactly leave his if he wanted to. 

No, that was uncharitable. Certainly, it seemed like Keith prized the weapon. Maybe it wasn’t so different from an extension of his arm. 

“We need to hide-- behind that dune over there. They'll want to go look at the ship, first, and they won't be getting out of their tanks if they see a threat.

He risked another glance, then crouched and slid down the dune. Keith followed reluctantly. “Aren’t these your people?” 

“It’s not that simple,” Shiro said and hushed him, pulling him further back around the dune. 

The tanks rolled up first, followed by the auxiliary military vans. Armed soldiers formed a perimeter around the ship as scientists tried to get it to open. 

“Any sign of life?” A familiar, creaking voice asked over the radio, audible in the still evening air. Iverson, Shiro thought. 

“No, sir,” the soldier reported. “The pilots are gone.” 

“They can’t have gone far. Search for them.” 

“Understood.” 

Keith tensed beside him, ready. But Shiro didn’t want to fight. Why did it seem like Iverson was expecting someone? And who had he been expecting? With that firepower, likely an enemy. The ship was easily lightyears beyond what Earth’s technology could currently create- a ship with enough engine power to be fully capable of leaving and entering planetary atmosphere without the bulk needed by conventional rockets. But none of the engineers seemed surprised- at least, not particularly. 

One of the soldiers approached their hiding place, forcing Shiro into decision. Fight or flight. 

In the end, Keith made the choice for him. 

The soldier had barely rounded the corner before Keith was there, taking him quickly and silently down with a knock to the temple and a jab to his throat. He pulled his knife back. 

“No!” Shiro whispered harshly, pulling Keith’s arm back. 

“He saw us,” Keith hissed back. The dazed soldier’s eyes were open. 

“You can’t just go around killing people!” 

“A loose end is a luxury we can’t afford!” 

A sudden, shrill alarm filled the air, emanating from the man’s belt. 

Shiro and Keith looked at eachother for one frozen moment, then abandoned the soldier. Urgent voices filled the air. 

“Stop!” 

“My god, is that-” 

“Two of them!” 

“Don’t let them escape!” 

The rifle fire came quickly after that. Shiro ducked, making himself a smaller target as he yanked Keith away from the military caravan. There was nothing but open desert for miles- it would be futile to run, but what choice did they have? 

“Duck!” Shiro slammed Keith down with an arm as the second volle of bullets went over their heads. “That’s live ammunition!” He boggled. Not even tranquilizer darts- were they trying to kill them? They rolled over a dune, swaying back to their feet. 

“What are they shooting?” Keith asked as they ran. 

Of course. Keith had probably never seen anything as primitive as Earth guns. “Bullets- don’t let any hit you!” At least they’d stopped shooting but the first wave of soldiers had crested the dune and one of the medical vans was blocking their way ahead. The driver didn’t seem to be of any mind to get out. 

They turned left, trying to go around, but the soldiers had caught up. 

The one in the lead spoke- a sergeant by the insignia. Her voice wasn’t familiar to Shiro. “Alright, you two, we don’t want any trouble, come quietly and nobody has to get hu--” 

Keith ducked in under the gun, quickly stepping inside so she couldn’t aim it and trying to grab her in a chokehold. It didn’t work. The woman got a fist in inside Keith’s elbow, shoving him back shooting at his thigh with the smaller hand pistol from her waist. Keith probably hadn’t even realized it was a weapon.

“Guh!” Two others came in as Keith faltered, forcing Shiro into action. He rammed his shoulder into the first, kicking out to ensure he stayed down. That was enough to have the second turn his gun their way. “Don’t shoot to kill! We want them alive!” The sergeant barked, training her gun on them. Three more were coming to surround them. 

Instinctively, Keith backed up against Shiro, facing outward. 

Shiro’s arm ached, the scarred stump of flesh felt weak, like the metal would fall off its shorn end. But it was all he had. He clenched his right fist. Was he ready to do that? Use this-- this thing against humans? Would they fall to it, flesh cleaved neatly, edges broiled by the unwavering heat? 

“Focus!” Keith barked sharply, back thumping up against his. 

Now wasn’t the time.

Now was never the time. 

“You understand us, don’t you, aliens?” the sergeant was speaking again. Should he show his face? Would that matter? It had been a year- did he even look like himself--? 

“Sergeant-” Shiro began, just as an engine roared, cutting through the silent night. 

A jeep thundered towards them, rear ending the van so it was out of the way. Kicking up gusts of sand, it came to a spinning to a halt a bare foot away. 

The driver stuck his head out the window. “You two, get in, quick!” 

“What- who are you?” Shiro gaped. 

“Boy there’s an army back there. Get in or get strapped to a table, your pick!” 

Shiro hesitated a moment longer, the idea of being strapped back down a chill threat, and climbed in the back of the jeep, pulling Keith up with him. The jeep set off again with a burst of speed that nearly pulled them off the vehicle, forcing Shiro and Keith to hang onto the bars. Shiro curled around Keith and anchored himself in the jeep.

The jeep careened past a sand dune that exploded as soon as they went past,, then barrelled on towards the cliffs far faster than any jeep reasonably  _ should _ .

“What the hell is this thing?’ Shiro sputtered as wings sprouted off the side of the jeep 

“That’s my baby you’re talkin’ about,” the driver called back. “Now hang on tight, make sure you don’t fall off!” he warned, just as they turned into the cliff and plunged straight down.


	3. Chapter 3

“We’re alive,” Shiro gasped wonderingly, falling to his knees. 

“No small thanks to me, of course,” the driver said, disembarking from the vehicle. 

“O-of course. I… thank you, but who are you?”

The driver shrugged. Standing, he was taller than Shiro, if just by a few inches, broad shouldered and square-jawed. He had a scruffy beard that looked like it was due a good shave and messy hair with a nicked scar over one eye. 

“You can call me Kevin.” 

“Why did you help us, Kevin?” 

Kevin cracked a wry smile as he lit up a cigarette from his pocket. “Call it a personal interest, like. Not often you see ships like yours out here.”

For a moment, Shiro wondered how the man knew the ship was theirs. But both he and Keith were still wearing the Blades’ uniforms, obviously unearthly with their glowing modules and the strange synthetic cloth, thin as nylon with the heavy whip of leather. 

“Are you… interested in UFOs?” Shiro asked, a bit wary. 

“Hmm, now ain’t that interestin’,” the man drawled. “Why would an alien guy like yourself know about UFOs. Seems to me there’s not a lotta unidentified left to you folks up there.”

Belatedly, Shiro realized, they had their masks on. “I’m... “ he hesitated. Could he trust this man? But he’d saved them. Surely he could know this much. “I’m human. So is… my friend.” 

Keith glanced sharply at Shiro, barely quelled by Shiro’s calming gesture. The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Human? You from around these parts?”

“Well, I am.” Shiro admitted. “We came here to look for something. A-- well, it’s a weapon.” 

“It’s out here,” Keith said abruptly, looking out of the tiny shack’s windows. Dawn had just started to break, peeking over the wide horizon. “I can feel it.” 

“You can feel it?” The man repeated. 

“Yes,” Keith said briefly. “I have… a sensitivity to quintessence. The weapons have more than their fair share.”

“‘Weapons’, is it. There’s more than one then?”

“Only one on Earth,” Keith said reluctantly, the cat out of the bag.

“Let me guess, it wouldn’t be some little thing called ‘Voltron’ would it?” 

Keith lunged for the man. Shiro just managed to get between them in time, hauling Keith back. “Keith!”

‘He knows- he might be an Empire spy!” Keith hissed back. “Besides which he’s been shiftier than an addled Kulu since we got here.” 

“You can’t just attack someone! ” 

“He’s a risk!” Keith argued back, slipping free from Shiro’s hold and elbowing him sharply. 

“Alright, alright, boys, settle down. It looks like we started off the wrong foot. Sit your butts down and let’s talk like civilized folk.” 

Shiro, still between Keith and the stranger and unwilling to turn his back on either, looked askance at the rickety old couch. The old girl had seen much better days, the cushions sagging exhaustedly into the frame. 

Still, he did his best to herd Keith towards it. “You’re not squad leader, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” Keith said stubbornly. “My judgement is as valid as yours. And I say he dies.” 

“That’d be mighty unfortunate,” the man said mildly, “seeing as I could help you boys out.” He sat down on the only other seat in the cramped living space, an armchair, and settled a shotgun over his knee. 

Shiro stared into Keith’s eyes. “Listen first. If he turns out to be a spy, I’ll help you kill him myself,” he bluffed.

“I don’t need your help,” Keith grumbled, but he sat. 

“First off, I’m Kev. Kevin Kogane. I was there the last time a ship came down here,” the man said. 

Shiro paused. “I’m--” 

“No need to tell me your names- I know you boys are passing by- and to be frank I’m a busy man, won’t have no time for socializing.” He gave the same lopsided smile. “Besides, I don’t fancy lyin’ when the sheriff or worse comes around asking if I know someone.” 

“Now, the last pilot was looking for something, too. Had a spot of trouble getting her engine back to tip top shape and she came by to ‘borrow’ what she could from my tool shed.” He nodded towards the side of the house, where a far better appointed extension, like a garage, was locked down, the jeep and another covered vehicle had been put inside.

“She was dressed a lot like you two. Had a darned wicked big knife to boot.” 

Keith had gone still. “What was her name?” 

“Didn’t ask,” the man replied smoothly. “Easier that way. We talked. She borrowed a couple of things, disappeared when she wanted to. I never saw her again since. She left this behind, though.” 

Kevin hooked a box under the coffee table with the tip of his shotgun, kicking the lid off to show them a cube. ”Can’t get it to work for the life of me.”

Keith reached for the cube. “Mission logs,” he murmured. 

“I figured it might be something like that. Now,” he stretched a bit. “Seeing as you’re both in the ass of nowhere and your ship’s gotten taped off by the army stiffs, you can both stay here until you find what you need. It’s a small shack, but I ain’t much for staying in one place long, my business keeps me on the move. There’s a hoverbike out in the shed, too, so you don’t have to go trekkin’ all over the desert on foot.” 

Shiro hesitated. “Why help us?” 

“Why not?” Kevin shrugged. “I figure if you’ve come down here with just the two of you, you’re not the ones we should be worrying about getting a weapon. I sure as hell won’t be able to use whatever it is.” 

“In exchange, I want to know what you’re trying to find  and why it’s so important to you.”

He leaned forward. “So. Deal?” 

They were more than fair terms, but Shiro still had to confer with Keith. Given some of the unintentional revelations Kevin had given them, he would have asked for a moment alone, anyway.

“...So, did you guys send a lot of ships out this way?” Shiro asked awkwardly as they made their way behind the shack. There was no fencing that could’ve indicated a backyard, but that hardly seemed to matter for a shack all the way out in the middle of nowhere. 

“...Just one,” Keith said quietly. “It had to be my mother.”

That confirmed Shiro’s suspicions- and if Keith’s sudden quiet was anything to go by, the logical conclusion had occurred to him as well. 

“You could ask,” Shiro said gently. 

“No… I-“ He paused, taking a breath. 

“No,” Keith repeated more firmly. “The Blades raised me.” 

“Having another parent doesn’t mean the ones who raised you are any less,” Shiro said cautiously. But it  _ was _ Keith’s right to choose. Maybe he had the right of it. After all, what would telling Kevin accomplish? Keith would be here only until he left, much like his mother before him. Keith was Galra for all that he looked nothing like it. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, his voice tapering to a stop. 

In the end, they needn’t have bothered. The decision was taken out of both of their hands when they returned to find the shack deserted and the jeep gone. A note had been left on the table with an excuse about urgent business and instructions for food and a note that the hoverbike was solar-powered, along with a sketched map to the nearest town. They were far enough from the Garrison to be safe from any wandering cadets or officers, Shiro surmised. Assuming anyone even thought he was anything but dead.

Shiro read the note out for Keith’s benefit. He wasn’t any more impressed than Shiro was, but the slump of his shoulders suggested relief. 

“The sun’s out, we’ll be sitting ducks out there for any satellite camera if we wander around,” Shiro frowned. “Better wait a while and get more information. See if there’s anything in that cube your mom left.” 

“Let’s rest briefly and tend to our wounds,” Keith agreed. 

“Yeah, we can-- wait, you’re hurt!” Shiro rounded on Keith in alarm. He had nearly forgotten- Keith had never given any indication. If anything he’d been more vigorous than usual, especially during the talk. But  the evidence stared at him from a hole in Keith’s tunic, grazing his thigh. “Why didn’t you remind me sooner?!” 

Keith looked at him, perplexed. “It’s minor, I can still move.” 

“What if you get an infection?” Shiro barked, pushing Keith towards the open bathroom door. A cursory search revealed a suspiciously well-stocked first aid kit under the grimy metallic sink. 

“Sit,” Shiro said, in the tone he used for belligerent cadets. 

Keith sat- on the closed lid of the toilet. But Shiro could work with that. “You'll need to take your clothes off,” he said, hovering. Except, of course, he had forgotten the suit was one piece. 

Keith stripped unhurriedly, without judgement or concern, baring pale, smooth skin. There was a scar over his right shoulder and a deep gouge across his back, the puckered skin dark and obviously worn with pride. Smaller scars littered his skin, bone-white with age. Keith's long dark braid fell over his shoulder, dusty from their tumbles in the desert. He was sleek, as leanly muscled as the lines of the suit had implied, with dimples over his hips just the right size for a man's thumbs to dig into. Of course, Keith was a fighter. A soldier. His body reflected all the easy confidence with which Keith held himself.

He also had cute thighs and a very nice-- Dragging his eyes away with a flush, Shiro focused on Keith's thigh. The skin was broken, showing an angry, ragged gash. Whatever else Keith might be, his assessments tended to be blunt and fair 

“It’s not deep,” he confirmed. But it had to hurt. “Take your mask off, too,  there’s nobody here but us.” 

Keith slipped the hood off, revealing a pale face, covered with a light sheen of sweat. His brows were pinched but his mouth was firm. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Sad to say, Earth isn’t advanced enough for what you’re probably used to,” Shiro said with a twist of his mouth. He cleaned the abraded area carefully with a swab of antiseptic. First aid lessons from the Garrison had been years ago- he was thankful he remembered most of it. 

Somehow, the prospect of getting wounded in space had been laughable, back then. What was going to hurt them? Some rocks? A loose food packet? And mouth-to-mouth wasn’t exactly going to help if you were sucked into a vacuum. The dangers of faulty equipment had been far more real. If they were caught out with an equipment failure, the effects tended to be sudden and permanent.

But then the Galra found them. And then he’d walked into the Arena. He’d wondered a few times, with blood slick and hot down his side, how fast people could die from tetanus or how long before infection rotted a limb away. He hadn’t gotten an answer. The druids were too efficient for that. In a way, it had been liberating, in the Arena. Up until they’d sawed off his arm. 

He smoothed a waterproof antibiotic patch over the wound, binding it up with a bandage for good measure. Keith’s skin was warm. It wasn’t until he looked up that he realized just how close they were. 

Lucky for him, Keith found his surroundings more interesting than a potentially awkward situation.

“What are these used for?” Keith asked, frowning at the empty shower. It was… basic. Just a sectioned off area fenced in by about an inch-high strip of concrete. There wasn’t even a curtain. The showerhead was old-fashioned, but large. 

Shiro blinked. “That’s the shower-- it’s like a bath you take standing up. You can take one sitting down, too, but with water.” 

“Water?” Keith’s brows knit together again, vaguely scandalized. “But then you’d be  _ wet _ .” 

“That’s the general idea, yes,” Shiro said, feeling his lips curve up despite his bleak mood. 

“You get to soap yourself up, too. It’s uh… cleaning that you… rub on yourself?” He searched for a bar of soap and found it in a dish crusted over with old soap scum. “Like this. It’s soap. You just rub it together with water to make a lather.” 

“That’s a lot of trouble just to get clean,” Keith commented. 

“Well people enjoy it, too. It’s… soothing. Some people put things in the water that smell nice or turn it colors. Sometimes all you really need after a long day is hot water. I really missed that.”

God, a hot bath sounded really nice. But he wasn’t sure the water heater in this shack worked, if it existed at all. Running water all the way out here was miracle enough.

“You should probably use it,” Shiro said after a pause, circumspect. “You still have blood down your leg. You may as well.”

“How do I do that?” Keith asked, still flummoxed. He went up to the bathtub and got in, frowning when nothing happened. 

“There should be a knob or a lever somewhere- do you see anything?” Shiro asked. 

“No.” 

Shiro poked his head in. “Ah, it’s that one- the glass one.” 

Keith turned the knob, blasting them both with cold water. He hissed, stumbling into Shiro with comical surprise. 

Shiro caught him, both of them stumbling against the back wall of the shower in the narrow quarters. The water heated slowly, steadily soaking into Shiro’s hair and clothes. For a moment, it was all he could do to revel in that sensation. Water, unconstrained, flowing freely like rain, not through a straw or in a thousand little floating spheres. Actual water and not foam or gel beads. It reminded him of home and the smell of his grandmother’s garden. 

And then Keith twisted to look back at him, pushing up close. His hair was in his eyes, clinging to the sides of his face. Water dripped off the sharp angles of his cheeks and collected in the hollow of his throat. He was so close he could see that his eyes were purple in just the right light.

“Is it supposed to do this?” His voice was a puff against Shiro’s throat, caressing. 

“I-- ye--what is?” 

“This--- ‘shower’. I don’t feel very clean,” Keith frowned. 

“Y-you haven’t really.. Ah, it’s a bit more than just getting wet,” Shiro tried to explain, collecting his wits. He didn’t have time for this. He hadn’t in a very long time, even before Kerberos, when everyone was looking at him, expecting a man made of marble and gold. 

Marble did not yield. Gold did not lust. 

But how much of that remained? His arm was alien iron. His flesh was scarred, gouged with anchors for a foreign limb. His eyes slid over mirrors and his skin ached, tight over old wounds and shiny patches of damaged skin. He was crumbled and tarnished with blood. 

“...Shiro!” Keith pinched him. “Shiro. That was your name, wasn’t it?” He frowned. “You’re doing it again.” 

“I-- sorry. I didn’t think.” 

Keith watched him, head tipped up against Shiro’s sternum. “Will you accept comfort?” 

“I-- what do you mean?” 

“Last time, you pushed me away.”

“Ah-- sorry, I was just… surprised. I’ll be-- It’s fine.”

Keith regarded him solemnly, expression unchanging. “Your mind. It’s scarred. We have had agents like that. Is it common on Earth to treat the flesh but not the mind?” 

“I… well, no,” Shiro admitted, mildly defensive of humanity. “We have… doctors for it. But it’s--” Weak. A flaw. Impractical to wish for things he doesn’t have the luxury to pursue, like this.

“I’m surprised the Galra have such a... lenient attitude towards it,” he said instead. 

“If you have a goal, you have to chase it. It’s pointless to live otherwise. It’s true we’re single-minded, what we want we want with our whole being. You haven’t shirked this mission, though it isn’t your own nor can you do much on your own. But what you have is a wound. It keeps you from moving as you should.” 

Shiro closed his eyes. “I… Maybe. You’re right.” It didn’t really make him feel any better, but it was… a little more palatable, in his strange alien logic. 

“The Blades also have healers,” Keith continued. “But there are things that help. Warmth and touch are... grounding. It's a simple solition.

“What do you mean?” Shiro asked.

“Come groom with me.” 

“H-huh?” 

Keith reached for his braid, undoing the tie and carding his fingers through the long strands. Free, the locks zigzagged wildly, cascading over his back in dark waves. It fell past his waist. “Your fur is too short and hard to reach.” 

He turned again eying him critically and reached out for Shiro’s soaked jumpsuit, releasing the catch and pulling it down to his waist. Then very carefully leaned down and started licking up his chest. His tongue laved carefully over the dip of his sternum, sliding over the sparse little patch of hair. 

Frozen, Shiro could only look on in confusion. Was he-- Was he  _ licking _ him? Keith wrinkled his nose and looked down. “This isn’t enough. You have more fur down there don’t you?” 

Shiro made a strangled sound, crashing back against the wall. “What?! No!” 

Keith made a face at him. “It’s hardly much but it’s not like I can reach your head.” 

“No, no, it’s -- humans groom very differently. Very.” 

“How is that?” Keith raised his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed.

“We use our hands, not our mouths, for one.” Shiro pushed his wet hair back, relieved that Keith seemed willing to drop it.  Now if he could just push his heart back into his ribcage from where it was stuck beating against his throat.

“There’s also this thing we have- shampoo,” Shiro said, coughing, as he found a likely looking bottle and squeezed some into his palm. It smelled sharply of menthol and lemon. 

“What are you-- that’s my fur!” 

“Calm down, this is normal here, it’ll wash out.” Shiro grinned, enjoying Keith’s implacable calm fade in the face of the unknown. 

He started at Keith’s scalp, gently, if awkwardly working the shampoo into his hair. It was fine hair, soft and glossy. He kneaded the shampoo into it, reapplying as he went down. It was… surprisingly soothing. In a fit of mischief, he made two small cat ears from the suds, appreciating how appropriate they looked on Keith. Then he moved, touching Shiro back. 

“You’re not putting any on yourself,” Keith said suspiciously.

“I’m not the one taking a shower right now.” Even if his own suit was soaked, he’d already had a bath and that was enough.

“I’ll be getting out now- you just need to-- rinse, make sure there isn’t any bubbly stuff left.” 

“Bubbles?” 

"They're harmless." Shiro didn’t wait for the rest of it. The look on Keith’s face was priceless enough. He shucked himself out of the rest of his wet clothes, borrowing a towel. Keith might not care about the little niceties, but having the option to do it was a blessing in of itself. 

Padding out, he left to find what else remained of the shack-- and maybe a quick moment to himself.

Truthfully there wasn’t much to explore. Shiro walked three steps down from the bathroom to get to the bedroom. Kevin hadn’t bothered getting a door for it. The room took up most of the back of the shack, containing nothing but a large bed and a wooden trunk. 

Shiro thought back to the sunken couch- the beams of the wood underneath the cushions had cut uncomfortably into the backs of his thighs, but sleeping on the floor couldn’t be any worse here than it was in a prison cell.

“What is that?” Keith asked, raising his brows as he stalked into the room after him. His long hair curled, out of its braid and falling in damp waves down his back. He hadn’t dried off properly, either. 

“It’s a bed,” Shiro said, a bit startled. “A place to sleep. What do beds look like for… for Galra?” 

Keith approached the square bed warily. “Lower to the ground. Less…boxy.” He sniffed delicately at the sheets. “They smell less too.”

Shiro bundled the sheets up, dislodging a puff of sand, two spiders, and a tiny scorpion. “They can be washed,” he said. “I’m just grateful for a place to stay. Do you want the bed or the couch?” he asked. 

“It’s small- but so are we. We can both fit.” Keith went around, inspecting it before slowly getting on. The mattress was thin- and could honestly have been replaced a good few years ago by the looks of it- but anything was better than nothing. 

“Are you-- sure about that?” 

Keith turned a sardonic eye on Shiro. “Come.” 

Shiro flushed, avoiding his gaze as he approached the bed from the other side. It was fine. They were-- being practical. That was fine, surely. And nobody would have to know if… he shook his head a bit to clear it. 

“What are you thinking?’ 

“No, nothing, I was just… trying to get used to the idea.”

“Of sleeping?”

“A bit. I haven’t slept properly in a long time, either.” It had been hard to relax, not knowing what time or day it was; if he would be called to fight or not. Sometimes he fought twice in what felt like hours. Others, it felt like weeks had gone by before he was summoned once again. 

Counting meals was difficult- did they come two times a day? Four? How did time pass? The broken phrases the guards talked with were hard to decipher without a concrete point of reference. 

The Holts had talked a lot about how time was relative. He wondered if that brought them more or less comfort, wherever they were now. 

Shiro got into the bed, staring at the ceiling as he got under the covers. They were both all but naked but Keith was right- the bed was big enough for them both. 

Then, he felt strong, lithe arms wrap around his middle, warm skin pressed flush against his back. “I can see the entryway from here. Sleep, I will keep watch.” 

Shiro didn’t sleep for a long time, but his dreams, when he did, were vague, watercolor-soft. 


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, he woke up to an empty bed. Keith was up, dressed again, and studying the cube. 

“Did you get anything useful out of it?” 

“No, the passcode isn’t one of our general ones. It must be outdated,” he added, sounding a bit frustrated. 

“Alright, then we’ll have to search the old-fashioned way,” Shiro nodded thoughtfully. He went into the kitchen to figure out what food there was. Not much, as it turned out. Shiro blew a couple of dead flies from inside a jar. The cupboard was bare. It didn’t seem like Kevin had actually lived here in a long time. With no food and cut off from the ship, it was clear what they’d have to do first. Thankfully, Kevin’s instructions had included an emergency stash of cash under a floorboard.

“How do you feel about a quick shopping trip to restock supplies?”

There was a hoverbike in the shed and there had been directions to the nearby town. Shiro went back to the room to find old clothes stashed in the trunk- most were a little too loose for Keith, but there was a belt that would hold most of it together. And a bomber jacket that looked too small to belong to Kevin. Maybe it had belonged to him when he was younger- it certainly looked old enough. 

“Here, get dressed. I’ll go see if the hoverbike is in good condition.” 

Keith dressed, tucking the braid away as he watched Shiro get into the unfamiliar clothes, using him as a guide on how to get them on. “You seem better, that’s good,” he said, calmly approving as Shiro appropriated some boots. 

“Ah. I guess so...” Shiro ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he should push the ragged length back. In the end, he settled for an old cowboy hat buried deep in the trunk of clothes. He wondered if Kevin had ever been a cowboy or if they were essentially wearing the indiscretions of his youth. The hat felt a bit ridiculous on him. Like something he'd wear to a costume party. He’d always been more nerd than jock. At least, before the Arena. 

He carefully folded the thought away and tugged the long sleeve of the shirt over his metal wrist, settling the fit of the glove over the rest of it. 

It was time to head to the shed. 

Given the state of the house, it was immediately obvious that Kevin had spent more care on his vehicles. The shed was sturdy, well-insulated, and boasted a workbench loaded with a full array of tools. Was he a mechanic? An engineer alumnus of the Garrison? 

Shiro pulled the tarp off the hover bike. It was blood red and white, beautifully waxed as though it had just come from a showroom. It fit nothing about the scruffy man who'd lent them his home. Still, it was clear he cared for it and he'd have had to drive this around sometimes to keep the engine working.

Keith entered the shed. “That looks… surprisingly decent,” he said warily. “Bulky, but recognizable.”

“It's a hoverbike,” Shiro smiled and started to drag it outside, unlocking the stand. “Help me pull it out and then we can get going.”

Keith was predictably eager to try the bike controls but Shiro thought it might be best if he took the first shift. Keith wouldn't know how or where to park, anyway, he'd reasoned.

It was a mildly sulky Keith that clung to him for the 40 minute drive to the nearest town. Most of that, however, was forgotten as they pulled into Blackwell.

The town was medium-sized, a waypoint for people traveling across the desert. There seemed to be a local solar power industry, judging by the fields of solar panels set up not too far away. It was far enough from the Garrison that most students or staff wouldn’t go, particularly when Hemmerstein, the town closer to the Garrison, was far larger and more urbanized. Hammerstein owed a lot to the settlement of Garrison staff and their families. Not to mention the custom of cadets eager to blow their first stipend. 

The chances of meeting someone he knew were slim. And if they did, they likely wouldn’t recognize him. He’d been MIA in space for over a year. There was no recovering a body from outer space. If he wasn’t dead to the world, he’d be honestly surprised. 

None of his careful reasoning could disguise his unease. He felt like a stranger, watching these normal people walking and going about their day. His clothes felt strange on him, his body awkward. What if they could tell? That he wasn’t one of them anymore? What if they saw his arm? Or sense the change that seemed to have been carved into his bones as much as the scars had his flesh?

Impervious, Keith got off first, gravitating towards the old-fashioned glass storefronts. “What are these buildings for?” 

The question snapped Shiro out of his dark musings.

“They’re stores. You know, for buying things.” Shiro glanced up at the placard. “That’s a music store- they probably sell instruments. And other things.” 

Keith stared at the gigantic trombone that hung over the display, eyes as wide as saucers. It made him wonder how expressive Keith usually was under his mask.  “That looks like a weapon.”

“That depends on who’s playing it,” Shiro said wryly. “We should get going- we’ll have a lot of ground to cover and this is just the starting point.” Shiro didn’t know how long they had before whatever measures Ulaz has taken would fail. If Zarkon was really after these lions so much that he’d been searching for thousands of years, he didn’t think a little setback would keep them long. 

Keith walked slowly, keeping close to Shiro and half a step behind. It was an odd feeling. He wasn’t sure if Keith was keeping close for the safety of numbers or to guard Shiro. 

Shiro led him up the steps to a diner- the faded pink kind, with a wall groaning with pictures and well-wishes from patrons and anniversaries. There was a cracked old antique jukebox in a corner, somehow still functional as it murmured the low, sweet notes of a blues song about  [ water and gasoline ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUA9FUTieKA) . He ushered Keith into a booth, feeling a bit like he was herding a cat with how much he twisted to keep line of sight to the exit. 

After a pause, Shiro slid in next to him. Never could be too careful, after all, and if trouble walked in, they’d see it first. The table display was a bit cracked, but you could still swipe through the menu options.

“What kind of food do you usually eat?” He asked Keith. The selection was small- and leaned heavily towards bacon and waffles. Not that Shiro was planning on being picky. Just the thought of something other than spam-like chunks of meat and gruel had his empty stomach grumbling eagerly. 

Keith shrugged. “I’ll eat what you do.” 

“What’ll you boys be having?” The waitress was about Garrison age, mousy brown hair tucked under a white cap..

“Two of the breakfast specials, please,” Shiro ordered politely. “And coffee,” he added, unable to resist. 

“Coming right up, sir!” The waitress smiled, oblivious to the way Shiro’s own expression faltered. She turned away and Shiro pulled his hat a bit lower over his brow, tugging at the fringe of white at his periphery. It was a reminder that to someone looking from the outside, he looked old. He’d been gone a year and aged ten. Of course she’d think he was older than he was. 

The sound of ceramic hitting the corkboard table roused him from his self-conscious contemplation. 

Keith started guiltily, looking away.  

“Did… you just knock over the salt shaker?” Shiro asked. The cheap white ceramic cap hadn’t fallen off, but salt trickled out from the decapitated neck, splattered against the table..

“It was… I didn’t know what it was,” Keith hedged. 

“You guys must have salt- I tasted a bit… “ Not that it was anywhere near enough taste. Galra rations were mostly bland. 

“We don’t put them in… these.” Shiro saw Keith eye the pepper shaker and wondered if Keith might simply have an irresistible need to see gravity work. It was entirely disarming, when he remembered his brutal efficiency. 

Keith folded his arms, successfully resisting the temptation and opting to lean back in the booth. 

“I can still feel the Lion- but it’s faint,” he said, changing the topic. “Wherever it is, it’s far from here.” 

“That makes sense,” Shiro considered. “If it were here, people would’ve talked about it. Something that size would have been found.” And likely made into a tourist attraction, if the locals had any say in it. 

Keith nodded pensively. “The Lions are semi-sentient. She would have hidden herself.” 

“‘She’?” Shiro echoed as the waitress brought them their coffee with some packets of sugar and creamer.

“So the legend goes,” Keith said, distracted by the mug. “What is this?” 

Slowly, Shiro breathed in the aromatic mist from his own cup, holding it close.  “Coffee. It’s--” he sighed dreamily. “It’s a morning staple for humans. And most students.” It was piping hot, dark as midnight. Shiro took a careful sip, letting the bitter liquid slip over his tongue like molten gold. His eyes slipped closed, just- enjoying it, for a moment. 

Keith, beside him, didn’t like it nearly as much. “What is this? It’s disgusting.” 

Shiro smiled. “Here, you should probably put these in yours.” He opened two packets of sugar and creamer, pouring them into Keith’s cup until it turned a milky brown. 

Keith stared at it distrustfully. “You put something in it. I’m not drinking that.” 

“It’s safe,” Shiro reassured. “Here I’ll show you.” He took a sip. It was sweeter than he’d usually take it, but the bitter aftertaste was hardly recognizable anymore. “It’s normal. Most humans- Earthlings drink it.” 

Keith cast a glance around the diner, as though to see if Shiro were lying to him. There was a decent crowd- two old men poring over newspapers at the counter, a couple of families, and a couple snuggled in their booth, holding hands and exchanging shy kisses. 

“They’re nuzzling,” Keith observed, fascinated.

“Something like that,” Shiro agreed, opting not to try and explain. 

“Two breakfast specials!” the waitress chirped, approaching the table again. She set down two plates loaded with buttery waffles, crisp bacon, and fried eggs. Shiro’s mouth watered at the sight of it and he could see keith perk up in interest, too.

Shiro reached for the pitcher of syrup on the table to pour on the perfectly golden waffles, letting the syrup pool and drip off the edges in caramel rivulets. It soaked into the crispy edges of the bacon before coming to a reluctant halt. Keith stared accusingly. “You’re putting things on your food again.” 

“This is- this is normal. Look, it’s sweet. A little sticky, but that’s normal.” Shiro tried to pass the pitcher to him, only to have Keith grab his wrist as he let go, spilling a couple of sticky syrup trails on them both. 

Instead of letting him go grab a tissue, Keith continued to eye his hand then very carefully bent his head down to lick at his sticky fingertips, following the line of his finger to his palm with his warm, slightly rough tongue.

Shiro could only stare, frozen in his seat and heat flushing through him, last night’s scene, Keith close and dripping, flashing through his head. Then he realized they were in  _ public _ . He drew his hand back violently, nearly upsetting his plate. 

Keith looked up, surprised. “What?” 

“It’s just- humans don’t do that,” Shiro tried. Which wasn’t entirely untrue. Just not humans who weren’t at least dating.

“We--” come to think of it, he’d never seen any utensils. He’d assumed it was because he was a slave and a prisoner- but what if Galra didn’t own utensils at all? 

“Here, we cut it up like this,” Shiro demonstrated, taking a wedge out and holding it out on his fork for Keith to see. 

Keith eyed him skeptically. “That seems inefficient.” 

“Some cultures don’t use any utensils,” Shiro admitted, “but this is how it’s usually done around here.” 

Keith’s shoulders hunched, resigned. Then, he leaned forward and bit into the wedge, teeth delicately plucking the treat off the tines of Shiro’s fork, lips sliding off. 

His face lit up. “This… what's this taste?” 

“Waffles,” Shiro said, on autopilot. 

“Everythin’ alright?” the waitress asked, stopping by. “Was just popping in to check if y’all’d be wantin’ anything else?” 

Shiro’s hand jerked, just a little. “We’re good,” he said evenly. “Thanks.” He tried his best smile, the expression a little rusty. He hadn’t had to smile on command since… Kerberos, the photo ops. 

“It’s good, but…” Keith watched her go, restless, but he kept his voice low. “We’ll take forever if we eat like this. Every varga counts before the Empire arrives.” 

“You, ah. I didn’t mean-- you can eat it how you like.” Shiro cleared his throat. “So you can sense the Lion, right? We can take the bike out to the desert, see where you feel it closest”

He wondered, suddenly, if this was what Ulaz had meant by Keith’s qualifications. Had he known that Keith would sense the Lion? Had they found others? It sounded like they hadn’t- or at least not before the Empire did. The chance to get any single part of Voltron must be too tempting a prize to let slip. 

Shiro went back to his waffles, hyper aware of Keith’s thigh pressed against his in the small booth in spite of himself. He stared morosely down at the cooling meal. What a time for his hormones to come rushing back like he was sixteen again.

Keith was beautiful, competent, and surprisingly sincere. It’d been too long since anyone had touched Shiro, even if it was because Galra were apparently far cuddlier than their military let on. Just because all of those things were true didn’t make his attraction to Keith right. The casual touch; the offer of comfort- none of it meant anything to Keith and romanticizing it was a disservice. He was lucky that Keith didn’t or couldn’t seem to read any of the embarrassingly obvious signs. Shiro couldn’t have broadcasted them any harder if he’d had a neon sign. 

He forced himself to eat. The food was still good. Just having  _ texture _ again;  _ flavor _ \- it was  _ amazing _ . 

He did his best to focus on the food and not the small, happy noises Keith made as he discovered the salty crunch of bacon and creamy eggs. 

= 

Stocking up on some supplies for the shack, they headed back out to the desert. The open expanse relaxed Keith. The town had been small, but it was plain that the strangeness of it had Keith uneasy. 

The desert was empty plains of dry, sandy soil for miles, dotted by red-stone canyons and clusters irregular rock formations and cliffs. It was relatively easy to see anyone sneaking up on you. Conversely, it meant there was no cover. He glanced warily up at the sky, wondering if the Garrison could track them via satellite. Or would they be too busy? Surely they’d have spotted them by now if they had. He wondered if Greendale was still on monitoring duty. He’d always had more interest in his phone than the bland images from the satellite feed. 

“We can start at the cliffs- unless you think it might be buried somewhere?” Shiro posited. 

Keith closed his eyes, face upturned and brow knitted. Seated behind Shiro, in a red jacket and jeans, he almost looked entirely human. Like someone-- he might’ve had once. But lingering over the past wouldn’t save his future. Shiro turned his eyes back towards the cliffs. They all looked almost the same. Should he mark their way in case they got lost? The stars weren’t out- wouldn’t be for a good while yet- but he could probably navigate them back if they got caught out at night. 

Keith frowned. “There's something here,” he told Shiro, face upturned. His pale skin didn't look like it belonged in the desert, but Keith had barely tanned in the hot sun. Shiro wondered if that was his Galra side.

“There, behind those rocks,” Keith said abruptly. “That has to be it… It’s like…it feels like a lake.” 

“Like it’s in the water?” Water would be pretty hard to come by around here. 

“No… it’s just how it feels.” Keith pressed against his back, pointing. “See if there’s a way around.”

“Those are some pretty big rocks,” Shiro noted, looking them over. He kicked the hoverbike back into gear, following Keith’s lead. 

The rock formation clustered more thickly here, forming irregular staircases in the skyline. They had to go around the base of a large one, only to find their way blocked by more. 

“It’s too narrow for the bike,” Shiro said, getting off so he could measure the span. It was barely wider than his shoulders. The turbines would shear straight off if they tried. 

“Then we continue on foot,” Keith said decisively, slipping off the bike easily. He pressed a hand to the sun-warmed stone before them. Trailing across the sand-rough surface, he followed the crevasse towards the light on the other side, as though pulled by some invisible force.

Shiro hid the bike behind a large rock, hoping it would shield it from searchers and sand both, before following Keith’s rapidly disappearing figure. His shoulders scraped badly against the sides of the rock- just as he’d feared. He’d misjudged it a little, still unused to the newfound breadth. 

“Keith-- wait up.” Shiro jogged towards the middle as he got out. Keith was peering intently at a cliff that was in the way. “I think we’ll need better gear before we try to climb that,” Shiro cautioned. 

“We won’t have to,” Keith replied. “It’s underneath.” 

Shiro looked down skeptically. “How far down are we talking?” 

The sound of a helicopter flying overhead cut through the pause. “Don’t move!” someone yelled from above. Paratroopers landed just feet before them. The first was a familiar face. Jennifer- from his officer track batch. Her skin had darkened since he’d seen her last, from what he could see through her mask. Her ash-blonde hair was streaked and pulled into a tidy bun. Her patch had a new stripe. 

“ _ Shiro? _ ” She gasped, gunpoint faltering half a millimeter. 

“Jen,” Shiro replied, reflexive. He held his hands up slowly as more landed. “Everyone is in danger. We’re just trying to help-” 

“Don’t talk to them, Jen! We don’t know what they’re capable of!” 

“For fuck’s sake, Rakesh, that’s Shirogane- can’t you see?” Jen started to argue. “He’s supposed to be dead in outer space!” 

As the two started to turn towards each other, Keith took his cue. He rammed the new guy into Jen, sending them both bowling over before turning to flee.

“Come on,” Keith called, grabbing Shiro’s hand and running. 

Too late, there were more on the way. A dozen masked soldiers advanced upon them, cornering them against the side of the bluff. 

Keith took his sword out. “We’ll have to fight through.”

“Keith, no--” 

Keith swept through the front line and tore through the side, his sword flashing. He ducked to make it harder to target him without potentially hitting one of the other soldiers, but he wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long. 

“Secure Shirogane-” someone barked and for a moment it was like everyone was moving underwater. 

Keith turned to him, holding his hand out to pull him away. The Garrison platoon advanced on them both. One of the soldiers turned to Keith, his gun ready, finger on the trigger. He wouldn’t be able to move in time. 

Shiro’s arm burned. It hurt. He ran towards Keith, knocking him out of the way as something went flying over his head- but then the soldiers were upon them. Two held him back as the others took Keith- he fought, but they jammed something into his neck. Keith fell, unconscious, the soldiers tying him up. And Shiro- Shiro had no idea what they were going to do to him. They were holding him back. 

“Calm down, Shirogane!” 

“Hold him down!” 

“It’ll be okay, Shiro!” 

Someone tried to tranq him and everything  _ roared _ . Shiro’s hand lit up, phasing into an energy blade as he cut reflexively at the threat. Someone screamed, blood dripping down Shiro’s arm and splattering across his face. 

Warm. And red. 

Red. 

Shiro froze- long enough for one of the others to sink the gun’s fangs into his skin, punching through his jeans. 

The darkness came for him, swallowing the crimson swatch on his hands. 


	5. Chapter 5

When Shiro woke up, he was bolted to an upright medical bed. The light was too bright. He couldn’t see- his arm, did he still have his arm---? He couldn’t breathe, his heart was hammering too hard against his lungs. 

“---It’s me! Keith!” 

Keith--? 

But Keith wasn’t on the ship, Keith was-- 

Shiro gasped, gulping in deep breaths. The room was dim- not brightly lit with a surgical lamp. He grasped for his right arm. It was cold, the metal just as lifeless and unyielding as it had been since he’d gotten it. 

Keith was hovering in front of him, concerned. His eyes flicked to the arm. It was scuffed- like someone had tried to remove it- unsuccessfully. Shiro would know. He’d tried to pull it off in a fit of pique, once. Not even having it caught in the crushing jaws of a beast had managed to dent it. 

“They tried to cut it off,” Keith mentioned, frowning. 

Shiro laughed humorlessly. “I’m surprised they didn’t just take my shoulder with it.” Flesh was always the weakest link.

Instead, it seemed the Garrison had seen fit to bolt the whole thing down to the wall he was on.

“They’ve been keeping you sedated,” Keith said quietly. “But I think they’re wearing off faster than they thought it would.”

An immunity to sedatives would be just the kind of backhanded luck the Druids would leave him with. 

Shiro looked blearily at Keith. He’d obviously been stripped and patted down, left in nothing but shirt and pants. As was Shiro. 

“I’m surprised they let you in the same room.” 

“They think I’m human,” Keith said, frowning. “I didn’t bother correcting them. They’re looking for my ‘records’. And they like bright lights.” He sounded particularly unimpressed with the Garrison’s approach to interrogation. “The one-eyed one asked how long I’ve been with you.” 

Shiro managed a weak chuckle. Of course. Alien life was a fantastic daydream to Earth. A hypothetical somewhere. Instead, the Kerberos crew had been clipped and mowed over like unsuspecting rabbits, peering out of their dens.They’d assume Keith was human, and that he was an accomplice. And Shiro…. There was no two ways about what they thought about him, with him bolted down and kept under like a rabid animal. 

And… wasn’t he? 

Blood, bright as day, blossomed in his mind’s eye. Jen’s wide eyes. Was she alive? Had he killed her, too? So easily, like a stalk of wheat. Like one of the slender, scared prisoners he’d once shared a cell with. 

He’d come home to save them from danger. But he’d come home  _ as _ a danger. He’d panicked and he’d become a mindless weapon, cutting down anything in his way. If he couldn’t control himself, then maybe he was better off chained. Maybe he should have stayed in the Arena. 

Keith’s fingertips were cool where they touched his face. 

Shiro startled. 

“You’re wandering,” he said, frowning. “Is it the bindings? Or the fight?” 

“I- both,” he said, tired. What else could he say? Keith would know better than to accept an excuse, by now. He’d been reading him since they met.

Keith sifted his hands through Shiro’s hair. He had to get up on his tiptoes to do it, leaning against him.

“What are you doing?” He was arrested by the sight of him so close. He felt fragile, like Shiro could cut him, too. Then, Keith clapped his hands on either side of Shiro’s cheeks. 

“I’m helping,” he scolded, like Shiro was an unruly pup. He pushed Shiro’s hair back with his fingers, his nails scraping and combing the hair away from his skin. “This is your grooming, isn’t it?” 

“Keith--” 

Keith thumped him with one hand, holding him in place. Not that Shiro could actually move, right now. The casual absurdity of it all made Shiro’s shoulders shake. 

Displeased and dislodged by the motion, Keith eyed him. “You’re laughing. But you’re not happy.” 

“It’s not really that simple,” Shiro said, the words petering out into a sigh. But at least he wasn’t lost in the maze of his mind. For that, he had Keith to thank. If he’d done this on his own.. He might not have made it. 

“Then tell me,” Keith said, straight to the point.

“I-- you’re right, I’m not happy,” he allowed. “I… I don’t know if I can be, again. If i should.” 

“Why not?’ Keith asked. 

“Well,” Shiro said, voice cracking a bit. “I lost an arm, for one.” He let out a raspy cough before sobering. “I’ve killed people. I thought nothing could stop me- only to find out everything could- until it didn’t. And I started worrying about stopping  _ myself _ .” 

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to die. But maybe I should. Maybe it’d be better. You wouldn’t be captured here, for one. And Jen…” God, he hoped she was okay.

“Jen?” 

“The woman in the lead… she was a classmate.” She’d been gifted, of course, as everyone in the officer track was, eager and ambitious.  She’d always carried around a small stuffed cat- a good luck charm, she’d said. 

“Her wounds were shallow, she would have lived.”

“That’s not the point!” Shiro burst out. “I hurt her- I panicked and I just-- I don’t have control over myself anymore. I don’t even  _ know _ who I am, anymore. Maybe Shiro died. Maybe the Champion is all that’s left.”

Keith considered him quietly. His stare, when Shiro looked up, was unnerving. Sharp and unwavering. 

“I think ‘Shiro’ is someone who likes coffee and baths,” Keith began. “Strange, but... kind. You take too much on and allow too little out.” He glared at him a bit accusingly. “But I don’t hate that.” 

He traced the scar over Shiro’s nose. “You’ve shown me new things. And that just because it’s new doesn’t mean it’s bad.”  

He pressed a kiss to Shiro’s mouth. His lips were dry from the desert air, but unexpectedly pliant.  “Your nuzzling: did I do it right?” 

“I… ah…” Shiro flushed, the shock of his warmth too much to talk through. “Y… Yes, but-- that’s usually for people… fond of eachother.”

Keith tilted his head. “You’re not fond of me?”

“I-” how was he supposed to answer  _ that _ ? “Of course I am.” Probably more than he should. “Keith.. Why are you helping me so much? This is more than the mission.” 

Keith shrugged. “You’re... different. You mean what you say. You walk like you don’t belong. I remember what that was like.”

“That makes us quite the pair, doesn’t it?” Shiro wondered how long it had taken Keith to earn his place. A place that wasn’t even fully accepted. He thought about how proud Keith was to be Galra; how he was slowly learning to be human. 

Maybe it wasn’t as hard as he thought. 

_ Are you afraid of me? _ Keith had asked. Keith was still Galra at heart, an agent by profession, but he hadn’t tried to kill anyone since the first time he’d brought it up. He touched Shiro as though he were someone normal, someone who couldn’t kill him if he froze and slipped from his mind. He pushed into Shiro's space as though he weren’t bleeding and thorned in regrets. 

Keith wasn’t an idiot. Shiro wasn’t, either. He was still splintered, choked by his own mind. But Keith saw someone who could be whole.

It was a drink of water on his parched throat, washing the red away. 

“Keith,” Shiro began. “I--” 

“Someone’s outside,” Keith said, suddenly, straightening and pulling away. His hands dropped, but his body tensed, preparing. 

Shiro could hear voices. 

“---about this?” Came a muffled voice, unsure.

“Give it to me,” said another. “Can’t believe you’re the engineer around here.” This one was louder, clear even through the door. “Oh, yeah, who’s the man?” 

“No, don’t--!” 

The door burst open with a bang, rocking on its hinges. 

“Come on, we’re busting you out!” Two teenagers were standing at the doorway. A third, larger one was playing lookout. “Lance- I think they’re coming- we gotta go!” 

The small one had thick glasses, with a familiar tatch of messy camel hair. “Matt?” Shiro said, hushed, like he’d seen a spectre. 

The kid flinched, but kept his face down, working on the bolts holding him down. “I’m not Matt- but you’re going to tell me where he is!” 

The klaxon sound of the sirens and shouting down the hall didn’t leave them much time. Keith helped buck the restraints off, pulling Shiro along with him as the others made their escape. 

The gangly boy who’d spoken first had been picked up and thrown over his friend’s shoulder. Undeterred, he flung  something behind them- it exploded. A grenade? 

“Hah! Did you see that?! Totally an ace pitching arm. Collins, eat your heart out!” 

“ _ Lance _ , could you maybe-  _ run _ ?”

“Well maybe if you let me  _ down _ , Hunk!” 

“Turn right!” Not-Matt yelled. 

The group turned, only to find a couple of officers and a smattering of cadets down the hallway. Keith seized one of the janitorial trolleys that was parked in the hall, kicking it viciously to send it careening into the pack. 

“Other option,” he snapped as they ran towards the other end of the hall. It ended in a medical facility- an operating theatre. It made Shiro’s skin crawl, looking at the sharp edges of scalpels and medical beds. 

“We don’t  _ have _ an other option! That’s where the exit is, genius!” Lance howled. “Pidge, what now?” 

“Uh- uhhhhh-- wait-- do you still have a grenade on you?” 

“Uh, yeah--” 

“Pitch it at that window-” 

“What? If I do that we’ll die from the shrapnel!!”

Before Lance could argue further, Keith grabbed the grenade from his palm, throwing it perfectly across towards the window. It exploded, sending shards of glass flying, just as Lance had warned. But Keith, it seemed, had caught on to Pidge’s plan. 

Without stopping to look at the explosion, he upended a table and forced them all down, covering them from the worst of it. 

“I can’t believe you did that!” The teen squawked. 

“Shiro,” Keith called, tugging a medical bed towards the window. And he understood. It was a three floor drop down- not unsurvivable, but the mattresses might provide the cushioning they needed. 

“Barricade the door,” he told the others as they scrambled. 

Swiftly, they cobbled together a frankenstein of mattresses, prepared to launch it.  

“They’re in here!” Someone yelled outside the door. Someone shot at the handles. 

No time. Sink or swim. 

Shiro made sure the kids were on it- belatedly realizing that Keith was behind him. 

“Keith-” 

Keith pushed- gravity did the rest. The cadets screamed as they fell. Keith nearly fell off, saved by Shiro’s quick arm. 

They were lucky- the ground outside had been silty soil instead of the hard metal and concrete that cemented most of the Garrison. 

A familiar jeep drove up to them, Kevin at the wheel. “Good work, kids, get in!” 

“What- how--” Shiro asked, trying to wrap his mind around it. 

“Went nosing around here to try an’ get your ship back,” Kevin explained as they all boarded with some help and he revved up the engine. “Heard they got some prisoners and put two and two together. You boys owe me a hoverbike!” 

They raced to the perimeter, Garrison vehicles on their tail. “Hang on,” he warned, and sped up. “One of you toss these at the chicken wire.” He passed Shiro a grenade. He suspected that was how Lance got his, too. This one was an older model, almost vintage. 

That ‘chicken wire’ was military grade electrical fencing, but Kevin didn’t seem concerned. 

Shiro pressed the button and threw it. 

“Nice aim!” Kevin said approvingly as they sailed out from the Garrison’s walls.

The euphoria of their escape was short-lived.

“Hey, what’s that in the sky?” Lance asked, hushed over the rumble of the engine. 

“Is it good or bad?” 

“That looks like-- a ship,” Pidge said, confused. 

Shiro and Keith both looked up, hearts falling. 

They had spent too much time-- or Ulaz had failed. 

Up in the sky, the bright lights of a massive Galran warship hovered over the Earth. 

“We need to find the Blue Lion,  _ now _ ,” Keith said. 

“The blue _ what _ ?”

Explanations had to be done over the trip, glossing over some of the finer parts of Keith’s origins. Thankfully, Kevin didn’t seem to find anything odd about their request. They stood at the cave. The shadow of the ship was getting larger- they’d be entering the atmosphere soon, if this kept up. Scouts would be deployed soon. 

Keith led the way. “We need to get down, somehow,” he frowned. 

“Well there’s a cave here, maybe it tunnels in? A secret tunnel kind of deal?” Hunk posited. 

“It’s worth a shot.” 

They walked inside the dark cave. For a moment, they couldn’t see anything, then, slowly, the walls lit with soft blue light. Etchings, like cave drawings, were carved into the wall, all glowing with an unearthly light. The scene depicted a lion being worshipped. 

“It’s her. It has to be,” Keith said, hushed. 

Somewhere, closer than they’d like, they heard choppers again. 

Kevin looked up. “Looks like this is where I leave you boys to it.” 

He pushed a bundle into Keith’s arms and his mouth quirked, a heavy sort of smile. “‘Say ‘hi’ to your mom for me, would you?” 

Keith frowned at the bundle. “What…” 

“You look just like her, y’ know. Be an idiot not to notice,” he scoffed. He cleared his throat and looked away. “Can’t hold them off forever, so you better go now.”

Shiro startled. “But-” 

“Don’t worry about me, just go do what you need to take care of the Universe.” He pushed them further inside and left. 

“Wait, Kev--” Something under their feet clicked and the floor disappeared. 

They fell into a water slide, half-sliding their way down a stone chute. 

And in front of them was a gigantic lion. It was a robot, beveled edges showing wear and tear, bright paint chipped by the scars of battle. It stood proudly underneath a barrier of some kind, a holographic shield straight out of a movie-- if Shiro hadn’t seen what the Galra had first hand. 

For a split second he saw open sky where there were rock walls; the freedom of space calling. Shiro remembered that freedom, feeling like nothing could catch you, like you were weightless and free. It reminded him, a little of the little moments of levity with Keith. He saw a galaxy and other lions, forming into one: Voltron. A weapon with a will of its own. He knew, just from sight. It couldn’t be anything else. 

The others gravitated towards it.  “Did you guys just see that?” Lance asked, awed. He skirted around the lion, as though looking for a door. “It’s just-- it turned into a giant mecha!” 

Keith pressed against its shield, impatient. “But how do we get her to go?” 

“You led us here, why don’t  _ you _ tell us?” Lance scoffed. 

Shiro could sense-- the swell of waves. Like he was at a beach. An implacable lake, deep and silent, waiting. The barrier formed eddies in his mind, rippling. Mesmerized, he stepped forward. 

Water flowed. Resilient, flexible. A hidden strength beneath its surface. Water healed. Water chose freedom and accepted all. It soothed like the hum of a stranger, succor to the weak. 

He reached for it. 

The barrier fell around his touch.

Shiro blinked. 

Lance broke the silence first. “Whoa. I- uh, I guess we’re in.” 

More noise from above. “Everyone get in,” Shiro said as Blue- that was her name, she insisted- bowed her great head and opened her maw. 

“Shotgun!” Lance called.

“There’s no shotgun rules on lions!” Hunk protested, slinking along behind.

Shiro followed once they were all inside. They were all standing, the single pilot seat empty, as though waiting. Doing his best to ignore the weight of that expectation, Shiro walked towards the seat and sat down. It slid forward, sinking into the console space with a click as the dash lit up. 

Shiro reached for the controls- he wasn’t sure  _ how _ he knew they were there, but he’d never been surer of anything. His mind was filled with the echoes of memories that weren’t his; memories of flying through asteroid fields, twisting against galaxies, leaping from glacier peaks. 

_ What are you? Who are you? _ He thought quietly, and received a rumbling purr, almost playful, and a pressing image of battle and of a castle. “I got it,” he murmured. “You want out, right?” 

Shiro’s hands fitted over the curve of the blue-lit handles like they were meant to be there. In moments, they were flying. 

It was like no ship he’d ever flown. But the Lion was to a ship as a human was to a marionette. She lived, breathing with each powerful bound against the dry earth. Her mind flooded his with images, with visceral  _ memories _ that tugged at his muscles. Almost like he’d flown her before. He touched a switch, pulled the lever up- twisted the grip to fire at the Galra scouts that had found them. 

He pulled up, hard, just as two of the Garrison’s own tried to shoot, their armor-piercing shells useless, pebbles along Blue’s flank. They rocketed into the atmosphere, ripping out of it so quickly it left his ears ringing. 

They surfaced into space, clear and dark and scattered with stars, dripping the grit of Earth’s dust and air and into calm. 

“The warship,” Keith said, touching Shiro’s shoulder. It warmed him. 

“Got it,” he said, with a confidence he barely remembered. 

And, he flew. 

~ Act 1:  _ Fin  _ ~

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, he is. :') In one of the major preboot series, Shiro actually did pilot the Blue Lion first. I never intended for him to, at the start, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense as the story grew. And I got to wondering what made him pilot a different lion this time around, aside from the obvious color matching. And maybe one of the things that a Blue Paladin has to have is to be open; open to new things, to new adventures and wonders, to be willing to be guided- and VLD Shiro post-Champion is very much closed off. He's not the happy, healthy sunshine boy he once was. He might not necessarily want new adventures anymore. His overriding concern is one of duty and not of learning new things. BoM Keef changed that. He's new, he's strange and exotic, not an old friend, he's forced him to confront his demons and to appreciate the little things in life as well as the strangeness and wonder. He and Ulaz are proof not all Galra are bad, which is the primary experience Shiro has had of space for the 1+ year he's been in it. 
> 
> (Also I thought it was adorable how EXCITED and HAPPY he was when he remembered Ulaz in canon, like, YES HEY NOT ALL ARE BAD GUYS. *excited boof noises* This seemed strangely important to him- even before Keef came out (which, also, convenient)). 
> 
> There was also a lot of water imagery and bath scenes so. I rolled with it. :'D

**Author's Note:**

>  **DELTA:  
> **  
>  _CHEMISTRY_  
>  "The change in", commonly used to refer to "Heat"  
> MATHEMATICS  
> variation of a variable or function.  
> GEOGRAPHY  
> A triangular tract of sediment deposited at the mouth of a river, typically **where the river diverges into several outlets.**
> 
> ===
> 
> A Sheith Big Bang Fic with the lovely [Quetostada](https://twitter.com/QueTostada/status/911851913410310144) | [Quadriviuum](https://quadriviuum.tumblr.com/post/165666272269/in-another-reality-the-cards-fell-differently)
> 
> Betaed by the lovely takashiskeith.
> 
> Please tell me what you think of the story in the comments! :')


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